


Something To Look Forward To

by avi17



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: M/M, Oop I wrote a proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:16:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28793049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avi17/pseuds/avi17
Summary: Late at night before the final battle, Forsyth has an unexpected question.Written for the 'End of the Line' Forsython zine
Relationships: Fols | Forsyth/Python
Kudos: 31





	Something To Look Forward To

**Author's Note:**

> Happy to finally be able to post this! It was written over last summer (so peak quarantine time, that was fun), but as always had to wait until the zine (or at least its digital copies) was released. This might be my last fic for these boys, since I've been moved on to other fandoms for a while, but you never know. If it is, I've certainly had a good time <3

They fight a god in the morning. 

Python keeps turning that phrase over in his mind, wondering if it will feel more real, but it never quite does. It was very nearly tonight- Alm had been a wreck in half a dozen ways after the Emperor's dying bombshell, and ready to charge into the tunnels after his lady- but cooler heads had prevailed, and they had been given a few hours to rest and prepare. 

As if that's really something anyone can prepare for. Sleep, at the very least, feels laughably impossible. 

He hears the echo of boots on stone and turns, expecting one of the army's other usual night owls- but certainly not Forsyth, who sits gingerly on the stair next to him. He always looks oddly small without his armor these days, maybe because he looks so larger-than-life in it. Python leans his head into Forsyth's shoulder, and feels the smile that earns him against his hair. 

"Shouldn't you be sleepin'?" he murmurs. 

"Shouldn't you?" Forsyth retorts- but it's gentle, and he sighs. "I can't. I've inspected my gear three times now- and yours- and written my father in case-" He breaks off, the obvious possibility hanging in the frigid air. "But still, there's just...too much to think about."

Python understands. Briefly but vividly, he remembers nights spent like this after they'd first left home, awake and huddled together while Forsyth agonized over whether he'd made the right choice. In the daylight he seems immune to uncertainty, but Python knows better. He nods, cheek still pressed into the warmth of Forsyth's shoulder. 

"I'm going back to bed in a minute- and you should too," Forsyth says, with a hint of his usual chiding tone, "but that can wait." He shifts awkwardly. "I-I have something to give you."

The nervous stutter piques Python's curiosity enough to raise his head and meet his partner's eyes. "What, besides a lecture?" he quips, diffusing out of habit- but Forsyth is rummaging for something in his shirt pocket and Python's mouth is suddenly oddly dry. Forsyth presses something into his palm, and he feels it- circular and cold- before he sees it.

The ring is plain silver, without ornamentation, glinting in the torchlight. Python blinks at it, his stomach dropping like lead. 

"... What is this?" It's an idiotic question- he knows perfectly well what it is- but it's all he can manage to say.

Forsyth doesn't quite meet his eyes when he answers, and Python knows that in the light his face would be bright red. "Are you really going to make me say it?" Python would laugh if he wasn't so stunned. "I picked it up from a jeweler in the last village we passed though. It's not how I would have wanted to do it, but-"

Python's lips form the words before he has even consciously decided to speak. "Then don't."

Forsyth cuts off mid-sentence, baffled, and even in the darkness Python can see his face crumple. Already cursing himself, he closes his fingers around the ring and darts his other hand out to grab Forsyth's wrist before he can pull away. 

"Shit, wait-”  _ great job, Python, no way he could take that badly _ \- “-just...lemme ask you something first, okay?"

Silently- the inevitable tears so far mercifully absent- Forsyth nods. Python sucks in a shaky breath.

"Why now?”

Without pause, Forsyth answers. “Because I want to spend my life with you.”

Damn Forsyth and that raw honesty, the kind that lays Python bare and vulnerable in the way that he hates. It takes him a moment to form a response.

"Look, Fors, you're...the most important thing in my life. You know that.” Does he? He must, even though Python realizes he’s never said it so plainly out loud before.  _ You’re the only important thing in my life _ might be a truer statement, but that is a bit more honesty than he can muster. “I’m not sayin’ no right now, I promise, but...we've gotta talk about this. And right now there ain’t time.”

Forsyth has always been such an optimist- this must seem an obvious path to him. He's never cared how different they are or what different things they want in life, and he's never doubted that Python would follow him. And now, when it feels likely that their lives may end tomorrow, it would be so easy to not care either, but things aren’t that simple.

“What is there to talk about?” Forsyth asks softly, because of course he does. Python sighs.

“There’s just...a lot that wasn’t real before that is now.” Gods and monsters maybe, but also the fact that Forsyth’s dream is somehow, impossibly, within his grasp. A dream that Python, even after all this, has never wanted for himself. “Whatever happens tomorrow, our lives are never gonna be the same after this.”

That even Forsyth cannot deny, and Python sees him swallow and nod again.

"So we’ve gotta decide where we’re gonna go from here- a-and we will- I just…” Python curses himself internally- he may not be eloquent, but his quick wit and easy, languid speech are some of his only weapons, and they have utterly deserted him. “I just think you're doin' this  _ now _ because you don't want one of us to die before you get the chance.”

Forsyth shakes his head with a rueful little smile. "Well…yes. Is it so wrong of me to consider the possibility in the face of what we’re up against?” He rests a hand tentatively on Python’s knee, and Python covers it with his own.

“Nah, not at all. But c’mon, late-night fatalism is my job.” He squeezes Forsyth’s hand reassuringly, chuckling and raising a brow. “Where’s the Forsyth who would run headlong into a nest of terrors with only his bare fists and a battle cry?”

That earns him a soft laugh from Forsyth in return, and it diffuses the tension like music. “I can’t say I remember ever doing that.” But after a silent moment, Forsyth sighs. “I pray I find him by morning. It will do me no good to bring this doubt and fear onto the battlefield.”

“You will.” Python says it easily because he knows it’s true- he has seen more of Forsyth’s low moments than anyone, has watched him allow his insecurities to take over and his convictions to waver. But he always pulls himself out in a way Python can only envy, and in the light of day, with his dream shining ahead of him, he can face anything. “But listen, I want you to promise me somethin’.”   
  
Forsyth meets his eyes with fierce sincerity. “Anything.”

Python tries not to let his words catch on the sudden lump in his throat, but doesn’t entirely succeed. “No runnin’ off and doin’ anything stupid, alright?” He presses the ring back into Forsyth’s hand, curling Forsyth’s fingers around it with his own. He does not let go, but instead leans in, his voice quiet but firm. “You have to survive so you can give this to me again.”

For a moment, Forsyth blinks, processing, but then there’s a shift somewhere deep in his gaze and Python knows he understands. After all, of the two of them, Forsyth has always been the one with an eye toward the future- a future that is too important to be decided in hasty whispers in the middle of the night in case they don’t make it. That future is something to look forward to on the other side of this- a reason to take heart and fight on and  _ live _ .

Nothing is guaranteed. But whatever form it takes, Python knows one thing- that Forsyth will be part of it. 

Forsyth blinks at him with damp eyes and offers a tiny smile, pressing the fist holding the ring to his chest in a familiar salute. “...I can do that.”

They fight a god in the morning, and they both should sleep. But neither of them moves, settling on some unspoken agreement that  _ contact _ is more important than rest. So instead they curl up together where they sit, small against the vast stone steps of Rigel Castle, each clinging to the other like an anchor in a tempestuous ocean. Python expects to keep vigil all night, but instead he finds himself waking to Forsyth’s gentle nudging and the morning sun in his eyes. One look at Forsyth’s face reveals that Python was right- he is back as he should be, shoulders high, jaw set, ready to take on whatever awaits them. Python can see the outline of the ring tucked into his tunic pocket, and for one bizarre, illogical moment, he feels certain that they  _ will _ make it to see tomorrow- after all, Forsyth may be a pain, but he never breaks a promise. 

When Forsyth grabs his hand, he squeezes back gratefully and lets himself be dragged down the stairs toward the armory.

The rest can wait. They have a battle to win.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always appreciated!


End file.
